


Not the First Time

by StarkAce



Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Neglect, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Parentification of Children, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Episode: s01e11 To Serve or Protect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 05:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30101031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarkAce/pseuds/StarkAce
Summary: It's not the first time Andy has had to worry about her dad killing someone in a drunken stupor. Only this time, she's an adult.
Relationships: Andy McNally & Tommy McNally





	Not the First Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story of what-ifs, specifically what if Tommy McNally's alcoholism had been worse and had started earlier in Andy's life.
> 
> This story takes place post s01ep11, when Andy had thought her father had killed a recently released rapist/murderer. 
> 
> CONTENT WARNINGS: non-explicit sexual abuse of a child (everything is implied, there's nothing graphic)

The white ceiling is marred by a brown water stain. When Andy first moved into this apartment, it was the size of a quarter. The next time she noticed it, it was the size of a small book. Since then, it seems to be growing more slowly, but Andy knows this is only so because she has been spending more and more of her nights staring at it. 

Tonight, the oppressive heat of the weeklong heat wave ripping through the city is partly responsible for keeping her awake. Andy’s AC is broken, so she has the window cracked open, which is letting in only slightly cooler air into the sweaty atmosphere of her apartment. But Andy’s not fooling herself. She knows even if the weather suddenly changed and a cool breeze blew in through her window she would still be lying here, awake and trying to repress memories of trauma long past, but which the events of her father’s almost-arrest for murder have brought back with a sudden viciousness she wasn’t mentally prepared for.

In the background the clock in her kitchen is ticking, a quiet steady presence that seems to sync with her heartbeat only at 3AM. Or maybe she only notices it when she's desperately trying to forget why she can't fall asleep in the first place. 

There's a crash outside, and then a drunk yelling "Fuck!", before his expletives peter off into the incomprehensible muttering that she became so familiar with over the course of her childhood, taking care of her drunken father and trying desperately to maintain an appearance of normalcy within their family so no one would look too closely. She had already lost her mother, and she wasn't going to let anyone take her away from her father. 

Maybe he had seen that, and known she wouldn't tell anyone what they did together. Or what he did to her. Or maybe it was bound to happen no matter what.

Andy’s eyes slowly find their way back to the ugly brown water stain in her otherwise white ceiling. She called her landlord about it months ago, and he promised her he’d send a plumber to come check it out soon, but in the end no one ever came. 

-

Andy was 7 when it first started. Andy used to come to school with neatly brushed pigtails and a full lunch box, but slowly, ever so slowly, that started to change. Her hair started to be a little greasier, a little more tangled; her father kept forgetting to run her a bath. Her lunch box started having less snacks, but still a sandwich for a while. But then one day, she got to school and when lunch time rolled around, she opened her lunch box only to see a single juice box. 

Her second-grade teacher, Mr. Luke, approached her, putting a hand on her shoulder while he crouched in front of her chair. 

“do you not have a lunch sweetie?” he asked, frowning in concern. 

Andy didn’t fully understand why, but she got the impression that saying yes would be a Bad Thing. So, instead she answered, “I--I grabbed the wrong lunch box before getting on the bus today…”, muttering and looking at her shoes by the end of her sentence. Andy only had one lunchbox, and she’d never been a very good liar. 

Mr. Luke looked from her empty lunch box to her unbrushed hair, before standing up and taking her hand. 

“Well come on then, I have extra food in my office that you can eat” he said, tugging gently at her hand.

When they got to Mr. Luke’s office, he gave her half of his PPJ sandwich and some of his apple slices, and he pulled a hair brush out of his desk drawer, proceeding to sort out the mess that was her tangled hair.

-

Andy remembers feeling special when it first started. It had been innocent in the beginning, what any teacher would do with a clearly neglected child. Andy had the loved the individualized attention Mr. Luke gave her, when she wasn’t getting much of it from her father. The only catch, that Andy now understands retrospectively as an adult as the start of his grooming of her, had been that Mr. Luke had never reported her father’s neglect. 

At the time she believed that Mr. Luke was her friend, and never reported it so that Andy wouldn’t get taken away from her dad, but she can see now she can see how he was taking advantage of her isolation. How he didn’t want any other teachers looking too closely. 

-

Andy was 8 when she tried to tell her father what was going on with Mr. Luke. By then, it has stopped feeling special, and now it just felt scary. Mr. Luke didn’t just brush her hair anymore, they also played “adult games” together, because Mr. Luke said he loved her, and that when two people love each other very much, they like to make each other feel good. Their games didn’t make Andy feel good, but they made Mr. Luke happy, and when Mr. Luke was happy, he gave her hugs and brushed her hair and did everything she wished her real dad would do. 

Last week 2 police officers came to Andy’s school, and talked about “Stranger Danger”, and how no one should touch you in ways that make you feel icky. But Mr. Luke wasn’t a stranger, and sometimes his games made Andy feel good, even when they also made her nervous. So, she thought maybe she should ask her dad if the games with Mr. Luke were different from what the police officers were talking about. Andy’s dad was a police officer too, so he would know, she reasoned.

By the time Andy had worked up the courage to ask her father about the adult games she and Mr. Luke played together, he was drinking scotch and watching the football game on the TV. Andy’s dad always started with beer at dinner, and then moved on to scotch afterwards. Andy’s dad never hurt her when he was drunk, he just sometimes forgot Andy was there. So now Andy made her own lunch, and brushed her own hair, and when she didn’t it was okay because Mr. Luke did it for her. 

Andy sat beside her father on the couch just ask he yelled out “Aw come on! That was a bad call!”.

“Daddy? Can I ask you a question?” Andy asked.

“hmmm…?” her father replied, most of his attention still on the TV. Finally, the ad break started and he looked at her. 

He smiled at Andy, and brought a shaky hand to her shoulder, but was so drunk he could barely properly make eye contact with Andy. “What is it sweetheart?” he questioned gently. Even when he had a hard time looking after her, Andy knew her dad loved her. 

“Sometimes me and Mr. Luke play adult games together, because he loves me very much, but today at school the police officers said that’s bad. But it can’t be bad, because only people who love each other play those games, and Mr. Luke’s not a stranger, right Daddy?”

“What?” her father responded, his hand on her should tightening to the point of almost pain. He sounded mad, Andy thought. 

“I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me daddy!”, Andy cried, tears welling up in her eyes. 

Her father stood up then, and threw his scotch glass at the wall, “I’ll kill! I’ll fucking kill him!” He screamed, and Andy started crying for real. 

He started screaming some more, and Andy curled up on the couch, drawing her knees to her chest. Maybe daddy was mad because he thought she loved Mr. Luke more than she loved him?

“I’m sorry Daddy I’m sorry, please don’t be mad! Please don’t hurt Mr. Luke, please don’t kill him”, but daddy didn’t seem to hear her. 

-

The next morning, Andy crept downstairs. At one point last night, her dad’s angry shouts had turned to slurs, and he had passed on the floor. She knelt beside him on the living room carpet, and shook his shoulder. 

“Daddy?” she questioned cautiously, afraid that maybe he was still mad. He groaned and rolled over, before slowly sitting up. He squinted his eyes at her, before saying “Andy?”. He looked around him, to the broken shot glass and the carpet that smelled like scotch, and his face lost all colour. 

“I didn’t hurt you did I, Andy?” he leaned towards her, taking her face gently between his palms. “What happened last night?” he questioned.

Andy felt a sudden swoop of relief pass through her. He didn’t remember her terribly confession. He wouldn’t go after Mr. Luke after all. Andy knew what happened when somebody killed someone. They were arrested and they went away for a long, long time. Andy didn’t want Daddy to have to go away, so maybe she shouldn’t tell him about Mr. Luke again.

“It’s okay daddy, you didn’t hurt me” she replied, smiling. 

“I have to get on the school bus now daddy” she said while getting up.

“Okay sweetheart, have a good day at school” he said, and kissed her forehead.

And that was the end of it.

-

Andy stares at the growing brown stain on the ceiling again, thinking about the day she’s just had, worrying that her father had killed someone. She wonders if she’ll ever be able to tell him about Mr. Luke without worrying that he’ll end up in prison for homicide, or fall off the wagon permanently, drowning his guilt in booze. 

At 8, she had been so certain that her dad had truly loved her, despite his alcoholism. But over the years, as he has consistently chosen a bottle of scotch over her, she has started to doubt that, quietly. She wonders if she’ll ever regain the unshakable belief in her father’s love that she had at 8 years old.

As she finally drifts off to sleep, her eyes at half mast, she realizes that her ceiling is slowly going to grow mould, making the air in her apartment not just oppressively hot but toxic to breath, and no one but her will notice it.


End file.
